


shame

by clowning



Series: Jackanda Nonsense [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Choking, Dirty Talk, F/F, Masturbation, OR IS IT, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowning/pseuds/clowning
Summary: Jack is so fucking desperate to get off.





	

**Author's Note:**

> heya! taking a break from my Andromeda stuff for this piece. these two need wayyy more content than they're getting.
> 
> drop a kudos or a comment if you'd like :D

It’s pathetic. She’s pathetic. The fact that she can work past her own pride to recognize that fact is the worst part of it. 

Jack feels warm, too warm, the oppressive heat of the engineering deck is too much. She tore off the strap covering her breasts long ago, the heat between her skin and the scraps of leather sticking against her flesh too uncomfortable. She shifts again, her hips rising from her cot as she paws at the ache between her legs. The friction isn’t anywhere close to being enough to soothe or satisfy.

She lets out a frustrated groan, the noise bouncing off the walls, loud enough to be caught by the surveillance camera stationed in the top corner of her borrowed den. 

Jack shudders at the thought.

Sitting up, Jack swings her legs over the edge of the cot, shakily rising to a standing position. Her thin fingers fumble for her belt buckle, taking more time than she would like to loosen the strap. Desperation builds inside her, her fuse already burning itself. Arousal and anxiety coil low in her belly, and Jack blushes at the low keening noise that escapes her as she finally manages to shuck her pants off and step out of them. 

She sits back down and is horridly aware of the fact that it’s still too damn hot. She turns, laying on her stomach, burying her face in the crook of her elbow. She can feel her arousal, hot and wet between her thighs, drenching the fabric of her underwear. She craves so desperately for cool relief, for pleasure, for any kind of release. Jack shoves a hand in between her body and her bed, pushing under the waistband of her shorts. 

“Fuck,” she hisses as she pushes her fingers through her own slick, working at her clit. She knows it’s not enough for her, but her hips buck against her hand, an eager staccato. She wants release so badly. All there is for her is scorching heat. 

Jack adjusts, pressing at her clit through it’s hood, growling at the whisper of pleasure. She screws her eyes shut, starving for something to help her get off. Her mind wanders without her permission, to cold blue eyes and perfect dark hair. She swallows around the immediate dryness in her throat. Her hips stutter to a stop, she tries to focus. 

_Cold leather traces the glistening lips between her legs, nothing but a tease and never anything more. Deft fingers work her into a frenzy, slipping over her clit, never hard enough but just so, to give her the illusion of being pleasured._

_Jack tries to suck in a breath, to moan and growl, but the other gentle hand previously teasing at her jawline clamps down around her throat, leaving only a choked sob to trickle over her chapped lips. Everything here is cold, not enough for the animal behind Jack’s ribs._

_Cool lips brush against the shell of her ear, and Jack tries to take in a breath and fails, her airways blocked by a calculated vice grip. A smooth, accented voice lights a fire in her gut._

_“What an eager slut.”_

Jack starts her ministrations again, frantic against her clit. It isn’t _fucking_ enough.

She bites down on her bottom lip as her shifts her other arm, shakily lifting her hips. Jack reaches between her thighs, her cry muffled by the cot as she pushes three fingers into her entrance, rough and unforgiving. Thrusting in and out, she relishes the stretch and the burn, pleasure finally building in her clit.

She imagines Miranda fucking her like this, pushing into her from behind, pressing her face onto the hard surface of her desk. Her walls clench and flutter around her fingers at the fantasy. Miranda wouldn’t care. She’s a mistake, a base creature, and the cold operative would fuck her like one. 

Jack’s abdominal muscles twitch and she pushes her hips back, searching for a touch that wouldn’t be there. The denial and the shame of it all gets her off, pushes her to the edge. She fucks herself harder as that voice echoes in her mind. 

_Slut._

Jack moans as her whole body tenses and shudders, her come dripping over her fingers, drenching her hand. Her orgasm crashes over her, pleasure hitting her core in wave after wave as she thrusts her shaking hips forward, riding out as much of her pleasure as she can, until she’s sore from the stretch and twitching with aftershocks. 

Finally, after her pleasure subsides, Jack pulls her hands from her underwear, slumping tiredly against the cot. She presses her wet fingers to her lips, tongue darting out and licking her come from her hand. She tastes herself and her embarrassment. 

Her tired eyes flick to the solitary, ever-blinking red light on the camera. The sickest parts of her hope that the cheerleader was watching.


End file.
